Just This
by nikita34
Summary: Their relationship was just one contradiction followed by another.


Greg House was right about too many things, knew plenty about the opposite sex, but when it came to Cameron, he was like Corey Haim playing the role of Lucas. Analyzing behavior, hobbies beyond the norm, and not well liked. 

Everything House knew about her was speculation.

He didn't know her.

They didn't know each other.

Their relationship was one big ball of contradiction with constant guessing, never understanding, reluctant of any admission about themselves for fear of it turning into the ammo that would strike the exact nerve that lead to victory of an argument.

And yet, he was here.

- - -

This was it. It would be ridiculous and over-the-top to say that it was the moment she's been waiting for because, honestly, the thought of this moment would only cross her mind when she saw him alone in his office or when he looked at her a 'certain' way.

Every now and then she'd actually feel a sort of chill scatter along her form with the occasional hot flash, the heat fluttering between her thighs when that particular gaze focused on her own.

It wasn't every time, and it wasn't often.

And to say that she has been waiting, anxious for the fantasy that was a soon-to-be a reality to arrive that it's almost cum-worthy is a bit too much.

Regardless, this was it.

Her arms winding tightly around his waist as she straddled the back of his bike, the smell of gas, leather, and soap peaking her senses, strangely causing arousal to elevate.

(Hm. Who would of thought, right?

Gas, leather, and soap┘a turn on?

Answer: With Greg House, oh yes it is).

Of course, the fact that she doesn't obsess about this moment certainly does not take away from her enthusiasm. She was looking forward to the point where they reach their destination and she would:

- dismount the seat (funny how excitement can override disappointment so quickly)

- walk through **his **front door

- pull off **his** shirt

- unbutton **his **jeans

_AND_

- fuck him in **his **bed

- - -

He was convinced that this wouldn't turn into something more than sex. There would be no epiphany where it was clear that Cameron could take away his pain, bring one ounce after another of happiness into his life, and help him love again, fixing him without actually trying to.

That's not what was in store for them within the next half hour.

No foreplay.

No soft touches.

No long stares that held more meaning than words.

This was about _getting off_, getting over, and getting passed that physical and sexual attraction that has been baiting them for the past three years.

When he pulled up to the curb, he grasped Cameron's forearms, quickly untangling them in an attempt to speed the process of going inside. Not to mention it almost felt too clingy, and that was just unacceptable and borderline uncomfortable.

- - -

The feel of her hands gliding along his sides while he turned the key in the lock was that tiny shove where scarce patience turned into utterly obvious zeal for release.

The flat of his hand pushed open the door, slamming it against an end table causing the coat rack to fall. The loud crash on the floor concealed her yelp of pain from the neighbors when he pressed her roughly against the wall, her head banging the frame of the door.

Immediately his mouth was on hers, devouring, smacking, licking, biting, and she knew the scrape from his stubble was already apparent along the lower half of her face.

His arousal pressed into her stomach firmly, but when she tried to respond with an arch, he gripped her shoulders to hold her back, a silent order that she couldn't move, only follow his lead.

Hand still folded around her shoulder, he worked the buckle of his belt, stroking his hard-on a few times before going back to tug the leather strap free from the loops of his jeans. With the clink and rustle in the background, she cupped the hand that was still resting on her shoulder, swatting it away to finally tug her shirt over her head.

She could feel the heat radiating through out her body and only hoped that he felt the same. She wanted to see all of him before the night was over.

Bare chest.

Toned biceps.

Muscle definition in his back.

Hard cock.

And scar.

- - -

One thing happened after the next until House found himself hovering over Cameron, settled between her legs wrapped around his back.

After their clothes were discarded, they made their way, connected by mouth, down the hall way, knocking over books and running into shelves before they finally made it to the door of his bedroom.

Running her fingers through his hair, he bent down hastily, his lips capturing the spot behind her ear before she gently pushed him away.

Brows knitting together in confusion, she stroked his cheek with her thumb, searching for emotion behind his stone gaze, finding no signs of sentiment.

To say that there was nothing but desire behind his stare would be pointless because no one can 'see' desire. It may be obvious since pupils are dilated and a hardness or wetness can be felt. Sometimes pleas, slight begging are tremendous indicators of wanting.

That was all she could go by.

He wanted her, and that much was certain.

The question was how much?

Would he be able to just cum and go?

Is this about savoring and storing into the memory bank for morning showers?

Whatever this thing was, all that could be guaranteed was the fact that it was going to be good, and Cameron was not allowing question, doubts, or concerns to get in the way of it.

- - -

House sensed that Cameron was looking too far into this, and it was something that he was trying to avoid, mind racking for ways to just get her in his bed as quickly as possible, fuck her and call her a cab. She needed to understand that this was all he could ever give her, that deep down he wasn't a softy that with love and care would come out to share his shell.

No. He would now and forever be a crippled ass hole who concerned himself with puzzles and supplying ammunition for his ego.

First thought: Those eyes of hers had to close. Without warning, he slid his hands to the back of her thighs, lifting her slightly for a better angle to plunge deep inside.

'_Oh fuck'_ , he thought to himself when his cock slipped through her folds. She was tight, and the warmth of her cunt on his shaft sent one sensation after another rippling through his body, toes curling, muscles tensing like he was just seconds from coming.

He felt her fingernails digging into him, scratching along his back, and without a doubt leaving marks that would sting tomorrow morning when he took a shower.

They worked a rhythm, hips rolling against one another, pace increasing with every thrust.

He wasn't worried about his weight crushing her body.

She wasn't worried about jarring his thigh.

It was greedy.

It was ruthless.

And it was exactly how House wanted it. Cameron seemed to have gotten the hint, and he couldn't have been more relieved that her naive self decided to take a vacation that night.

Sweat developed along their bodies, the pinching of skin as they stuck together turning from pain to pleasure within seconds, and the very knowledge of knowing they were finally fucking each other sent them both over the edge.

His forehead rested into her shoulder while he tried to regain control of his breathing. At least that was his plan when he came inside her, but she clearly had other ideas.

He thought she was going to flip him onto his back to straddle him, possibly ready for another go which he was certainly game for, but that thought brushed aside, replaced with curiosity when she pushed against his chest, mumbling one word,

"Out."

He didn't have to ask what she meant, and did as she said, pulling out of her with a roll of his eyes, adjusting his pillow the way he liked it so he could lie down and pretend to fall asleep as she got dressed at the foot of his bed.

Hearing movements close by, knowing that they were her own, and knowing they resulted in her departure, sent grudging impressions of disturbance to overwhelm his thoughts.

"Fuck," he muttered into the pillow, pounding his fist into the mattress.

Cameron picked up her shirt, pausing half way up to eye him puzzlingly.

"What's your problem," she asked, with an air of nonchalance to mask her reluctance at leaving so soon.

Propping himself onto his elbows, he looked down at his hands, scanning the wooden floor boards with 'interest' before replying,

"You can stay, you know."

"I'll have to leave early tomorrow morning. Might as well go home now so I don't wake you with a phone call for a cab," she tried to reason, convincing him and herself that she should just go now.

"You can stay," he said again, ignoring her last comment.

He didn't wait for an answer and pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed then turning to his side, dismissing any further argument.

Cameron dropped the shirt she was holding and slowly slid under the covers, tugging the sheets so they rested below her chin.

Seconds later she heard a creak, her body adjusting with the movements of the person lying next to her, and felt a warm callous hand graze across her side, pausing to rest on her stomach. His chest pressed against her back, chin touching her shoulder. She thought that he was finally asleep when his breathing grew to be deep and steady until,

"This is it. You know that right," he asked warningly. He believed that if she knew what she was getting into, their chances might turn out to be a bit better than if she expected changes and a happy ending.

"I know," pause, "Go to sleep."

Their relationship: _One contradiction after another_


End file.
